As An Old Memory
by Liete
Summary: -PrUK, UK/US, delinquent AU- 'He'd met Arthur Kirkland when he was seventeen and the other boy was fifteen. He'd pegged him immediately for a jaded, abused kid who'd been forced to grow up at too young an age...'


**As An Old Memory  
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**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: Although not requested, Quilted-Dreams had expressed an interest in seeing more about Gilbert and Ludwig.**** This might not be what you had in mind, but there's a little backstory here? So this is from Gilbert's POV, set alongside "As You Were"!  
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"You've really been hanging out at that prissy academy, haven't you? You fucking someone there or something?"

It's Kirkland's hesitance to answer that question that first piques Gilbert's interest. Normally he doesn't give a shit what Kirkland does when they're not hanging around each other, but the fact that he's apparently honestly attending the same school as his younger brother bothers him. Especially if he's just dicking around with another one of the students. It's the very same bad influence he's been trying to keep his brother away from.

"Not yet," Kirkland replies shortly after, and Gilbert narrows his eyes. Not _yet_? Since when does that asshole go to such great lengths just to fuck someone? Especially when they've been each other's most convenient source of quick, no strings attached sex for years?

Thoughts of grilling Kirkland for more information are forgotten for the moment when the younger boy takes his bottle of liquor right out of his hands.

"Hey-! Give that back, you bastard!" he snarls, but Kirkland's already drinking what's left in the bottle. He mutters curses under his breath. He'd stolen that liquor fair and square, so that bastard owes him more than just answers now.

* * *

His life's dream had changed multiple times over the years before he'd started his new life on the streets.

First he decided he was going to be king of the world, and all would have to bend to his whims, but no one would listen to him anyway, so that idea was out. Then he decided he would be a chicken farmer after he'd discovered a stray chick in their garden one day. When his "Gilbird" didn't make it to adulthood, he let go of that dream, as well. Then came the dream to be a knight in the service of "Old Fritz" down the street. The man was eccentric, but Gilbert liked to go sit in his garden and listen to his stories, most of which were probably made up, but Gilbert drank in anyway. The man was his hero, so he was devastated when he went to his house one day only to learn that he'd died.

With Old Fritz gone, he'd lost the only adult figure he respected. He didn't give a damn about his parents, who only cared that he be a respectable Beilschmidt and not shame them in any way. He was expected to carry on the family business at first, but as he grew older, it became more and more apparent that he had no desire to fulfill their wishes and they turned their attention to his younger brother instead.

Though he probably should have, he bore no resentment towards his younger brother. Ludwig couldn't help that he'd been born into a family where their parents stayed together out of obligation and the desire to keep their good name despite hating each other, and with an older brother who acted out whenever possible. All he could do was make the best of his circumstances.

Gilbert had decided that it was his duty as an older brother to give his brother all the awesome guidance possible. Ludwig, or "West" as he'd been affectionately dubbed when his three year old self was unable to pronounce his newborn brother's name, was not the type to be influenced so easily, neither by Gilbert nor their parents. Even though he was unusually serious for a little boy, Gilbert had no doubt that he wouldn't grow up to be like their parents. Bitter, distant.

He'd been fourteen when Old Fritz died, and that was when he'd started to started to act out even more. He picked fights at school, stayed out past his curfew, got into scuffles with the police, took up smoking and stealing from his father's liquor cabinet. He found he preferred the life he found on the streets more appealing than the train wreck that was staying with his parents, since they'd taken to reminding him on a daily basis what a disgrace to the family he was and how he might as well disappear.

So at fifteen, although it pained him to leave West behind without him, Gilbert left home and never went back. He took only a few pairs of clothes and some money he swiped from his father's wallet and then he was on his own. After fifteen years of putting up with his parents' shit, it was sweet freedom instead of a bad situation. He knew they wouldn't look for him either, so he was really free.

But it would be a lie to say that he hadn't thought about his younger brother all the time, hoping that he would indeed be fine on his own, resilient to the poor influence of his parents. He couldn't visit his brother, either, not when he'd chosen to be a despicable person who had no business associating with a good kid like Ludwig, so all he could do was pray on West's behalf and watch from a distance as his younger brother grew up without him.

* * *

He'd met Arthur Kirkland when he was seventeen and the other boy was fifteen. He'd pegged him immediately for a jaded, abused kid who'd been forced to grow up at too young an age, so he acted out on the rest of the world over his bitterness at his circumstances. A kid with no feelings for anyone, because feelings had betrayed him.

He barged into his life with a black eye and a swollen lip that was cracked and bleeding, but rather than ask for help, he'd demanded some of the pot Gilbert had been smoking. Although he could have just as easily refused, Gilbert fulfilled the boy's request.

"Arthur Kirkland," the kid said as he lit up the joint.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," he replied with a raised brow, and so with those curt introductions began their "relationship", as it were.

Although he'd never admit it out loud, after two years, Gilbert was beginning to get a bit lonely. Companionship on the street was hard to come by, with the way people appeared and disappeared all the time. Sometimes they moved on to other parts of the city, sometimes they made a better life for themselves, and, more often than not, they just up and died. There one day and gone the next.

So even though Kirkland was an asshole, he was company. More than that, he was a kid whose circumstances were worse than his own, and that made Gilbert feel better about himself. Schadenfreude or whatever.

At first they just smoked (marijuana or tobacco, it didn't matter) or drank whatever liquor either of them had managed to swipe, and they'd just sit in silence, since neither one of them liked the other very much. They both, however, had an unfortunate habit of ranting when drunk. Gilbert made the mistake once of drunk confiding in Kirkland about his concern for West. The other teenager had derided him for it, and they'd wound up in a fight where Gilbert gave Kirkland another black eye and broke his jaw.

Kirkland showed up again even after that, much to Gilbert's surprise. Poor bastard probably didn't know any better than to accept that abuse as commonplace in his life. After all, he went home to his family, didn't he?

It was once after they were drunk or high or maybe both that Gilbert had reached over to grope at Kirkland, who hadn't resisted. In fact, he'd had a startling amount of experience for a fifteen-year-old, but Gilbert didn't want to know why that was. It was enough that he was getting sex.

"I'm not a goddamned woman, Beilschmidt. Just fuck me," Kirkland had hissed when Gilbert tried to properly prepare the other boy. Their first time having sex was without lubrication or a condom. It was the last time that was like that, because Kirkland always came prepared every time after.

That's what they were to each other for years. An easy source of alcohol, drugs and sex. That's what he assumed they'd continue with until either one of them followed in the footsteps of the people on the streets before them. Moving on, a better life, or an abrupt death.

He hadn't expected Kirkland to show up one day wearing the uniform of his brother's school.

* * *

Despite his curiosity, Gilbert manages to refrain from following Kirkland around to see what exactly has him so distracted. What person he's so fixated on that he's wasting time and money on a school that is far above and beyond his bottom feeding social status. The same sort of people Gilbert would be wasting his time with had he not run away from home four years ago. Worthless, prissy assholes who never appreciated him for what he was.

Kirkland shows up one day looking thoroughly pissed off, but Gilbert doesn't even have to ask what his problem is before he's slammed against the building with blazing green eyes glaring at him.

"Drop your fucking jeans. _Now_," Kirkland growls and Gilbert's too startled to refuse him. He just follows through and is quickly flipped around and bent over against the building.

They're never particularly graceful when they fuck each other, but in this particular instance Kirkland is even more frantic than usual. Gilbert can feel Kirkland's frustration and tension as he's fucked roughly against a building, and he soon knows why.

"Alfred-" Kirkland gasps as he comes, though judging from the nonchalant way he demands alcohol almost immediately after, he probably has no idea he's said it. It's obviously the name of the kid who he's so interested in. A kid he wants to fuck, but can't.

"You're really fucked up, you know that?" Gilbert remarks to Kirkland who stubs out his cigarette on Gilbert's jeans in reply. No wonder he can't fuck this kid, given what a complete asshole he is. Some high class kid with a good family won't want a worthless piece of trash like Arthur Kirkland.

The incident is never mentioned again, just like with everything else that happens between them, but when several days pass with no sign of Kirkland, it becomes clear to Gilbert that _something_ has happened. Maybe Kirkland has finally pushed his family far enough that they've just outright killed him, or maybe something has finally happened with this "Alfred" kid.

Whatever it is, Gilbert can't deny the need to satisfy his curiosity any longer.

* * *

It's not the first time he's ever been to the academy; he's gone on many occasions before to check up on West. There's a line of bushes along the outside perimeter that are just tall and thick enough to act as a good hiding place where he can spy on the students without fear of being caught, so he stakes out there while he makes sure his brother isn't falling victim to the rotten influence of his parents.

Today he's there in the hopes of discovering Kirkland's secret, but he won't complain if he happens to see Ludwig, too. So when he sees his younger brother leaving the school grounds, he watches and listens intently, momentarily forgetting all about Kirkland and whoever Alfred is.

His brother is every bit as serious and stiff as he was as a child, but there's an underlying awkwardness there, too. He's still friends with that cute Italian kid, who was always a good influence on West before and is no doubt the same now, even if _his_ brother has a bad mouth and a bad attitude and hates West for no apparent reason.

If he was still in Ludwig's life, he'd probably harass that Italian kid's brother and maybe make a pass or two at the Italian boy himself, just to see if he could frazzle West a bit. But he's not, so he won't. West has probably forgotten all about him, which is for the best.

He watches as West follows his Italian friend, who looks exasperated as the other boy boisterously asks if they can go get some pasta, until the rough form of Arthur Kirkland finally makes its appearance. So that answers the question of whether Kirkland is dead or not. Not that he'd really care if Kirkland really _was_ dead, because there's always other people he can find for sex or drugs.

Kirkland lights up a cigarette and ignores the disgusted looks he gets from the other students as he stalks away from the academy campus. Shortly after a well built blond with glasses starts heading tentatively in the same direction as Kirkland, and Gilbert figures he's found out who Alfred is.

He tsks as he waits until they're both a good enough distance away before he follows after, making sure to duck behind cars or in alleyways lest Kirkland see him and flip his shit. Kirkland finally disappears into a building that's still under construction and the kid follows after him after looking around to make sure no one is watching. Oh yes, he's found Alfred, all right. Gilbert sneaks up as close as possible and peaks into the building to see Kirkland stubbing out his cigarette and Alfred looking around and whistling in amazement.

"This place really is a lot more private, huh? Probably not very safe, though, so we probably shouldn't-mm," Alfred starts to say, but is cut off as Kirkland grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, which Alfred eagerly returns.

Kirkland is kissing him, really _kissing_ him. Closing his eyes, holding the other boy's face, the works. Gilbert kissed Kirkland once, who declared it absolutely disgusting almost immediately after their lips touched and refused to do it ever again. But he's definitely kissing Alfred with hungry, needy kisses. Gilbert almost gags as the wet sound of lips smacking against lips drift over to his ears. Kirkland finally breaks away and stares at Alfred, leaving a trail of saliva in the small space between them.

It's only for an instant, but as they breathe heavily there's a flash of something deep and intense in Kirkland's eyes that's only for Alfred. It's immediately gone as Kirkland swallows and kisses Alfred again, rougher this time as he starts to drag Alfred further into the gloom of the building, but Gilbert has seen it and there's no denying what it is.

That asshole Kirkland is completely in love with this kid. It's so ridiculous that Gilbert isn't sure whether he should laugh or throw up. He settles for laughing derisively as both forms disappear from view, probably for Arthur to violate the poor kid, as he has no interest in seeing Kirkland fuck someone else.

So Arthur Kirkland, a heartless bastard with no regard for the wellbeing of others, let alone himself, is in love with a high society brat he has no business associating with. He should know, he was once one of those high society brats. He continues to laugh until he can't breathe and then he just lies in the grass outside the skeletal building occasionally chortling.

"Little Artie Kirkland's in love, huh? Fucking hell," he says to the weeds around him, which whistle in the breeze. He's not sure how much time passes before both boys finally reappear, Kirkland leaving first again and Alfred following shortly after, both looking disheveled. Kirkland is probably heading back to his farce of a family while Alfred is going to return to his good home and good life.

That is, until Alfred's cell phone starts ringing and he fishes it out of his jacket. He furrows his brow as he looks at what is probably the caller ID and then his face brightens slightly as he puts the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Ludwig! What's up?" he chirps into his phone and Gilbert stiffens. "Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten! …seriously, I haven't forgotten. Tomorrow at ten. All right. …all _right_. Geez, you really think I'd let down my closest friends? …_I'll see you tomorrow, Ludwig_."

Gilbert just gapes as Alfred grumbles and shoves his phone back into his pocket before continuing on his way home. Gilbert had no idea that Alfred was one of West's friends. Which means he might be inadvertently exposing West to Kirkland's lousy influence, something he simply won't let fly.

Although he probably shouldn't, Gilbert follows after Alfred, determined to make sure that this high society brat is really just that and not someone who is falling under the influence of Kirkland's deviant lifestyle.

"Hey!" he calls after Alfred, who stops and turns in curiosity. "You're…Alfred, right?"

"That's right! Alfred Jones!" Alfred replies with a beaming smile. "What can I do for you?"

He's so fucking eager that Gilbert has to roll his eyes. Kid probably bleeds sunshine and rainbows, too.

But that's just as well. It's no wonder Kirkland is in love with him; he's something that Kirkland will never be, could never hope to be. He's not falling under Kirkland's influence at all, he realizes. If anything, it's probably the opposite. Kirkland's attending a prestigious academy, no longer hanging around people like him, in love with a good kid that's probably a good influence on West, too. The pieces all start to fall into place.

Gilbert laughs again and Alfred tilts his head in confusion. "Never mind, never mind. I thought you were someone else for second."

He turns to leave without another word, but Alfred calls after him.

"Hey, wait! You look familiar…what's your name?"

Gilbert pauses. Alfred would most certainly recognize the name Beilschmidt, and even if he just said his name is Gilbert he might recognize that, too. He's not sure if West goes around talking about his runaway brother or not, but it's something he'd rather not risk. There's probably not a lot of Gilberts in the area and he doesn't want Alfred to make the connection. Ludwig doesn't need to know he's still around.

"None of your business, kid," he says with a smirk. Alfred frowns as Gilbert leaves him standing in confusion.

Gilbert shoves his hands in his pockets and whistles a tune as he heads back to his alleyways and streets, confident in knowing that Alfred Jones won't be a poor influence on his too serious younger brother, even with Jones's involvement with Kirkland.

That doesn't excuse, however, what Kirkland is doing, and Gilbert decides that if he ever runs into that asshole again, he's going to let him know just that.

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**A/N: I haven't forgotten about the actual requests I'm working on, too. No worries! :)**


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